


Crash (Jumped Into)

by blueblack-poked-stars (delicate_mageflower)



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Albeit also a rather dysfunctional one, Alec was a terrible father and you can't change my mind, Autistic Ryder (Mass Effect: Andromeda), Canonical Character Death, Crew as Family, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Romance, F/M, Neurodiversity, Slow Burn, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-11-04 13:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicate_mageflower/pseuds/blueblack-poked-stars
Summary: Nothing is what they expected. Everything's gone wrong.But through the dust…connection.





	1. A Broken Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up here that my Sara and Cora do not initially get along and there is a lot of resentment. I say it now because I understand that dynamic is not for everyone and if it is not for you, simply read no further!
> 
> Also I know I tagged this but I really hate Alec and I really hate feeling like we're supposed to sympathize with him in literally any capacity, and this fic will not be kind to him.

Sara Ryder: Pathfinder.

This is not what she had signed up for.

In reality, she isn’t entirely certain what it was that drew her to the Initiative to begin with.

Except that’s a lie.

It wasn’t so much about wanting to go, but being unable to stay.

Her mother was gone and her father had all but ruined any chance she and Scott ever had at normal lives or even steady careers. The Ryder name had been irreparably tarnished, and that’s what made saying fuck it and jumping goddamn galaxies so simple.

She never wanted to lead the way, though.

For all his faults, Alec Ryder was a natural leader; most people were easily swayed by his confidence and conviction and he seemed to effortlessly inspire these traits in others.

This role was meant for him, she had to admit.

But she feels nothing over losing him. She was surprised to hear it, and she still can’t wrap her head around his having died to save her life or why, but she doesn’t actually care that he’s gone.

She doesn’t care enough to question what that might say about her, either. She doesn’t have time.

Because she’s Pathfinder now. And she also had to die—albeit temporarily—to make this happen.

And there is no turning back.

Cora’s lucky she isn’t mourning, though. Someone in Sara’s shoes whose father had ever bothered to be a real dad might not take her obvious offense at not being chosen to succeed Alec with such aplomb.

Sara doesn’t want this any more than Cora wants her to have it.

But there is no turning back.

She has no idea how Scott is going to feel, and she doesn’t look forward to having to tell him (fuck, she hopes she’ll eventually be forced to tell him).

It’ll be justified, though, whatever it is. She’ll be there for him, she’ll listen. Even if she can’t relate to his response, she’ll do her best to understand. She will owe him that much.

She will owe that to Scott and _only_ Scott.

The role of Pathfinder was meant for Alec, and she fears how well she can do when she has always seemingly been the only person ever to have immunity to his charisma and influence. Scott got some of it, but she could never be swayed. For a long time she wanted it, wanted to be the kind of person made better for having been under his wing. She longed to understand why people like Cora could feel the way they did under his leadership. But she never had, and never will. She supposes she simply knew better, grew up too close to the bullshit to see what so many others could.

No, Sara didn’t have an inspirational figure. She had only an absent father who didn’t give a damn about the consequences of his actions and how they would hurt his family.

His “family.”

Cora could fucking have him.

But Pathfinder. Sara is the Pathfinder. And if she’s being honest with herself, Cora could have that, too.

There are no golden worlds, after all. How many had just travelled 634 fucking years only to find out they’ve lost _everything?_

She doesn’t want to have to be the one in charge of this mess. She doesn’t want this responsibility. She isn’t made for it.

But the process is irreversible. Lexi said SAM was now a part of her in ways they don’t truly understand. And she’s already learned her SAM is special as a result. And that means no looking back. What’s done is done and no one can fucking fix it.

There is no turning back.

So she can’t tell anyone. There are people looking to her now, and none of them want to hear how scared she is to take the job. None of them want to hear how much she hates being compared to her father. None of them can take learning they no longer have a _real_ leader.

And she’s panicking. Oh god, she’s panicking. She’s not allowed to do that anymore. _Fuck._

“Hey, Ryder,” Liam reminds her she isn’t alone. He must have heard her, having been asleep on the floor beside her in SAM node since their return to the Hyperion. He hasn’t left her side the whole time, his presence so consistent it had become easy not to even notice it.

“Please don’t call me that,” she replies hastily. “Why does everyone keep trying to call me that?”

“We went from a Pathfinder Ryder to a Pathfinder Ryder,” he answers nonchalantly. “Still sounds natural, I guess.”

“Please,” she sighs, “Sara.”

“Alright, Sara,” he switches easily enough.

She almost laughs. She spent a long time trying to call herself Sara Harlow, even though it always made Scott uncomfortable for reasons he could never figure out. Unfortunately even before Alec’s dishonorable discharge, everyone knew who her father was and she couldn’t get anyone to refer to her by her mother’s maiden name even informally. And after the discharge, well…

“Thank you,” she says quietly. She is grateful he doesn’t ask her to explain.

All she wants is to curl up in a soft blanket with a Blasto marathon. Maybe a stuffed animal or two. That sounds nice.

And she can still fucking hear Alec’s voice telling her to grow up at just the thought.

Alas, she already knows no one’s going to call her Harlow here, either.

“How are you holding up?” Liam asks. He means well. And even in the short time they’ve known each other, all they have already been through together seems to have forged a strong bond.

“Not sure yet,” she admits.

“This has all been…a lot, yeah?” Liam responds refreshingly casually. Like she’s actually a person, not only the new Pathfinder. “What a mess to jump into.”

“Literally,” she laughs. “Got to say, though, Kosta, it was nice to have you there to jump down with.”

“Back at you…Sara.”

It sounds even easier when he uses her first name this time, but he puts a slight stress on it which almost seems to indicate he wants her to know he’s listening.

Neither of them are looking forward to reaching the Nexus. They have to pray they’ll find answers there, that they’ll find _survivors._

But apparently not even trekking for over half a millennium across dark space could prepare them for the long journey which lies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I very strongly view Ryder as pretty much canonically autistic](https://twitter.com/ashkenerdi/status/1028357802761314305?s=21), and I say/write this as someone who is actually autistic, myself. And with the abudance of recent shitshows surrounding us being so poorly represented in fiction, I just felt the need to stress that.


	2. Crisis Response

Sara isn’t funny.

She knows this because of years and years of Scott trying to tell her. She knows this from all the groans her attempts at humor have gotten her from everyone who’s ever been subjected to it.

But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t keep trying. Alec never had a sense of humor, was deadly serious in all things, and all her bad jokes are just another way Sara tried her best not to be like him.

Gil seems to appreciate it, though. His dry sarcasm and her awkward puns oddly complement each other.

Liam appears to like it, too. It’s nice to take a moment to laugh through all this, apparently so much so that even Sara’s jokes will suffice.

Reaching the Nexus was…interesting.

Sara hit it off with Kesh right away, and she gets on well with Kandros. She can’t get a good read on Tann but she can tell he’s too far up his own ass to care what she thinks of him.

Addison is, at least so far, a fucking bitch, but Sara can’t fault her for it. She did her best to hide it when she started outright shaking while Addison scolded her for not being Alec and refused to acknowledge her as Pathfinder. It was heartbreaking to hear someone so openly vocalize having as little faith in her as she has in herself. But it isn’t personal, she gets it.

The Nexus had waited a year for them to show and had been through hell in that time. They went through all the same horrors the Hyperion had upon reaching Andromeda, but they’ve had an extra year for even more shit to hit the fan. So it’s fair, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take.

There is pressure enough, she didn’t need more. But unless a goddamn miracle occurs, there is always going to be more.

So taking a break to sob into a pillow in her quarters on the Tempest feels more than deserved as far as she’s concerned.

She made her rounds, met with her new crew. _Her_ crew, still a hard concept. But she likes them. Kallo is talkative and inviting and enthusiastic, Suvi has a beautiful mind and a kind heart, Vetra is friendly and funny and well connected, and Lexi is brilliant and dedicated. Sara misses Harry, but if he had to step back she could not ask for a better replacement.

But feelings still managed to creep up all at once, and she barely managed to walk away from Vetra when she had to start _running,_ terrified she would not make it to her room before the break took her over.

Everything hit her at the same time, and she could no longer contain it.

And she needs to get it out, it’s pouring from her now. She can’t contain it, spilling her soul all over her bed.

“Sara?”

A tap on the door, Liam’s voice. Crew quarters aren’t far from hers, and now she knows her room is not as soundproof as she’d have hoped if she’d even had a chance to consider it.

Liam has been the only person using her first name thus far. In fairness, he is the only person she’s directly asked, but it still a breath of fresh air to hear it stand out through all the surnames and titles everyone else addresses her by.

She forces herself to breathe, clears her throat and wipes her eyes. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” he calls through the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure…umm, yes, come in.”

She unlocks the door via her omni-tool, and he stops just inside the room after crossing the threshold.

“Something you need, Kosta?” she asks, trying to sound professional but only coming off curt.

“Liam,” he laughs it off casually. “We’re on first names, you and me, right?”

“I…” Sara doesn’t know how to respond. She doesn’t know how to do any of this.

“I get it, the rest of the crew will figure it out soon enough,” he continues. “And if they don’t, I’ll set them straight. Take some pressure off, if you want. But you and me, first name basis, both ways. That alright?”

“Yeah, Liam,” she smiles towards him. “Yeah, that’s good. You can, uh…you can sit down, you know.”

He walks straight past the bed and pulls up the chair in front of her terminal. She hadn’t even realized there was a seat there.

She likes Liam. She _really_ likes Liam. She figures that’s just what happens whenever two people go through what they did together on Habitat 7.

And how one may naturally feel about the other refusing to leave their side while they died and stayed well after their being revived.

“No one else was in the crew quarters when I…you know,” he assures her without needing to ask if she’s looking for it. “Not sure how well sound carries in this ship, but you should be okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Need to talk about it?”

_Fuck,_ that’s one hell of a question. She does, of course, but where to start? And would she ever be able to stop?

She doesn’t want to be Ryder. She doesn’t want to be Pathfinder. She doesn’t want the fate of every Milky Way race in this galaxy to rest on her shoulders. And she doesn’t want their first contact in Andromeda to have gone as horribly as it did.

So there’s her start, she decides.

“I never killed before,” she admits. “I never wanted to. And now I have and I know I had no choice and I trained for the possibility, but…”

“Weren’t you military?” Liam asks genuinely. “Like your dad?”

“I was, but…I’m a fucking _scientist,_ Liam. Like my mom. Alec was the big, brave soldier. Scott took after him in that, but I…I never wanted to fight. I had to learn how even before the Initiative since, you know, biotics. But all I ever wanted to do with the Alliance was dig up Prothean relics and learn everything I could about the galaxy we as humans were still so new to. This…I never could have imagined this.”

“‘Alec,’ huh?” Liam catches. “Not very close?”

“No,” she nearly talks over him. “I’m not sure I ever really knew him at all. He wasn’t around enough to give me the chance. I think Cora was closer to him than I ever was. Probably knew him better, too.”

Liam stares at her in recognition, sympathy. He cannot relate to this in the slightest, but he sees her wrestle with it. He’s not sure _she_ sees it quite so well, how much she is struggling with how distant she was and the love she legitimately does not feel for a man she is “supposed to” be grieving.

“But we lost the ‘golden worlds,’” she continues, “Alec’s gone and we lost our _true_ Pathfinder, the Nexus leaders don’t trust me and they’re fucking right not to, we have the goddamn kett, and Scott…”

“It’s been a rough haul so far, yeah.” It’s compassion he offers, compassion he feels. “Murphy’s Law is real in Heleus, too, for sure. Everything’s a damn mess but you know what, Sara? _You’re_ the Pathfinder we need. You care. This isn’t about logistics and proper leadership and command with you. Your d—uh, _Alec_ was good at that shit, sure, but to you, we’re people. Not projects. We have a mission, we have a goal, but it matters to you for the right reasons. Whether or not that could’ve been true of him too doesn’t matter. It is you, and you’re what we’ve got. And I think you’ve got this.”

He surprises her by coming closer, sitting at the edge of the bed. He takes a leap and puts his hand on her shoulder, and every bit of composure she had managed to force or fake for Liam’s sake disappears again all in one great crash.

She had not realized how alone she felt, how touch starved she’d been. She did not realize how badly she’s needed to feel _any_ kind of real connection with another living being like this.

He wraps his arms around her and lets her weep into his shoulder, lets her use his body as a muffle against her wailing. She is trembling and he feels her hands ball into fists at his back as she digs her nails into her palms.

He does not judge her. He does not say a word. He just lets her unleash. She needs it, god knows. She’s wound so tight, and if that slight a touch was enough to lead her to _this…_

He holds her close. He feels her pain and sees her through. No one else needs to know.

She doesn’t want him to leave. It’s hard to say if this is time and place or if this is him specifically, but what she knows is that she has apparently been _desperate_ for affection and that he isn’t running.

She knows she doesn’t want to feel so alone anymore. She knows she is tired of feeling so fucking alone.

She’ll just have to figure out a bad joke to make about it later.


	3. Looking for Life

Eos, a vast empty landscape of radioactive desert.

And they are supposed to make it viable, to make it habitable.

Saving Eos will be the first step to saving Heleus. But first, they have to actually save Eos.

It’s been tried before, too. Two sites, both failures.

Third time’s the charm, perhaps. Also everyone’s only real hope. No pressure or anything.

It is also no Habitat 7. Sure, don’t breathe the air and don’t let it touch your skin, that much is the same, but at least there’s no lightning and there doesn’t appear to be any floating rocks.

Other settlers from the Initiative had believed there could be life here. And it is _because_ of Habitat 7 that this belief has been rekindled, because Eos is emitting a signal similar to the technology they found on that first ill-fated mission. This is a new chance to start, to do it right. And so here and now, Sara’s job is to try.

No pressure or anything.

“Sara?”

Liam stands next to her, taking in the view of this monumental wasteland. He keeps close to her, far closer than Cora from her other side, and she is grateful for each respective distance.

“You alright?”

Of course he’d check in with her here, following so soon after the breakdown neither of them have since discussed. She sees the way he looks at her when they cross paths, too, and it almost looks like pity. It isn’t, not exactly, but a profound sympathy and an unspoken invitation should she need someone to help her that way again. And she’s not sure this look she has become so aware of is in fact any different at all from how he’d looked at her at any point before she found herself weeping in his arms like an old drama vid.

“No,” she answers him honestly, but quietly enough so Cora won’t hear. That, she doesn’t need. “But I have to be, right? Pathfinder.”

 _“Sara,”_ he lowers his voice, speaks as softly as she. “You got this.”

***

Turns out, Liam was right.

She can hardly believe it. It isn’t perfect, but Eos is changing, its atmosphere stabilizing.

And Prodromos is…it’s real. An outpost. A real chance at hope.

They could never have done it without Peebee and her knowledge of and interest in Remnant technology. And Sara is thrilled to have Peebee and Drack on board the Tempest.

Hell, even Addison seemed impressed with what they accomplished. Apprehensive of Sara’s abilities still, but impressed at this.

And now they have a better understanding. It’s the vaults, it’s the monoliths. That’s how they change the worlds. That’s how they find home.

It sure as shit won’t be easy, but against all odds it looks like the Pathfinder has found the path.

Well, the Pathfinder and her team.

This is a victory.

So why does it seem so hollow?

“Why so glum, chum?” Gil teases her back aboard the Tempest. “Come on, this calls for a party!”

She likes Gil a lot, he’s quickly become a good friend, but she isn’t sure they’ve yet hit the point where she is comfortable confiding in him that this win just feels empty.

Especially when she could not even begin to explain it to herself.

“Don’t you have someone’s ass to kick at poker or something?” she laughs.

“Yeah, _everyone’s,”_ he follows, laughing as well. “But…hey…”

Gil’s not fantastic at dealing with anything real, either, that’s clear. It means something that he cares enough to try, though.

But she can’t even deal with _that_ right now.

“Does a tech officer know what to do with a dead end?” she deliberately mimics his words from when she asked him about his feelings on Kallo, and she feels terrible about the coldness in her tone but she can’t do anything about it.

“Ouch. Alright, I’ll back off.” He may actually be hurt, too, from the sound of it. It’s hard to tell with him, but his concern has certainly been sincere enough. “But, umm, hey, if you need anything…”

It is every bit as uncomfortable for him to offer as it is for her to decline. Their bond is a strange one, but despite her current inability to let him in, it is one they both sorely need.

“Yeah. Thanks, Gil.”

She is crawling out of her skin, and she jumps over the railing overlooking the lower deck, landing hard on her feet. She’s always been hyperactive, and never intentionally reckless but it’s tended to come out that way regardless. She races to her quarters and changes into her old Blasto tank and sweatpants, putting on her headphones and then returning to the floor to run laps around the Nomad. She’ll attract attention here but she doesn’t have enough space to let out this steam privately. And she doesn’t know how else to get it out.

Physical fitness was always important to Alec, but she’d taken to running as an outlet in spite of it, not because of it. That’s what she tells herself, anyway. She uses it to run from him, too, after all, even now he’s no longer here.

And that’s one lap around.

She and Scott were subjected to N7 training techniques from a young age, and she was drilled even harder since she was the one to display biotic abilities.

That was also how she got stuck on peacekeeping duty with the Alliance. She had no issue following in Alec’s footsteps with Scott in joining the military, but unlike her brother she went in intending only to be part of a science team, possibly working her way into research and development eventually. Even that wasn’t a concern, though, she was perfectly content to go on digs with different groups of like minded nerds for the rest of her life. Whenever she was in that environment, it was the only time in her life she ever felt like she belonged anywhere.

And that’s ten.

She was never a very good fighter, and even after the obligatory two years of Initiative training she’s a terrible shot. She hated going on missions back in the Milky Way which had even so much as any potential for physical altercations. All she ever wanted to do was learn and to have the opportunity to put her knowledge to good use. She wanted nothing more than to be just like her mom.

And maybe if she’d had a real father, that dream could have come true. Maybe if her mom had outlived him, everything could have been different.

And that’s fifty.

If she’d never gotten sick, there’d be no SAM and Alec wouldn’t have ruined the entire family’s careers. They might never have left home. They would have had a chance at normal lives.

Sara is trying so hard not to focus on what could have been, especially considering how aggravated she gets with Cora continuing to do exactly that and bringing everyone down with her.

So she’ll keep her chin up, pretend everything’s okay. And it helps to know that she doesn’t have to lie to Liam. He likely isn’t the only one, but he’s already seen it all and that makes it different.

And that’s… _fuck._

So right now, in this precise moment, all that matters is losing herself to the heavy bass and drum and synth blasting in her ears, the now countless circles she’s run over an unknown span of time, the strain in her chest but unwillingness to stop.

“Sara,” SAM chimes in over the music through their private channel. “I must advise you take a break from your current activity. Your heart rate is accelerating beyond a safe range.”

“Then do something about it,” she snaps bitterly. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Improve a Pathfinder’s peak performance abilities or whatever? I’m the fucking Pathfinder, so improve it.”

There has to be some perks to this, she thinks to herself. If having a Pathfinder SAM forced on her means she doesn’t have to slow down while she does her best to run from her own thoughts, she will fucking take it.

“I have been doing so for approximately the past half hour, Sara. I have reached my capacity for assisting you to a healthy degree.”

“Fuck.” Far more time has passed than she would imagined, then, but she doesn’t care to ask how much. “Come on, SAM, just a little longer…”

She knows he’s right, she can feel her heart pounding, but she does not want to stop. She does not want to slow down. This is all she has to keep herself grounded on her own.

She’s still moving. Just a little longer, indeed.

“Sara. When I became a part of you, your heart stopped, and you have had little time to rest between then and now. While most of this has been unavoidable, it is unwise to test your limits any more than is necessary.”

“What _isn’t_ testing of my limits anymore?”

“Pathfinder, you need to rest. If you do not stop, I will be forced to alert Dr. T’Perro.”

“Dammit, SAM, fuck…”

She takes a deep breath and ends up thrashing herself into the side of the Nomad, unsure how else to make herself stop as SAM has instructed. She didn’t mean to throw herself like that, it just happened, but it’s done the trick.

She slides down to the floor, panting harshly, leaning forward and placing her head in her hands.

If anyone is around, no one lets her know.

“Vital signs beginning to normalize,” SAM notes after a few minutes.

She should be celebrating. She should feel better.

She doesn’t know what to do. But she has to figure it out.

She catches her breath and makes a choice.

She’s never really belonged anywhere, and none of them belong here. So it is here she will belong somewhere.

“Hey, Liam,” she pages through her omni-tool. “You up? Got any beer?”

“For you? Always.”


End file.
